Blues To Browns
by Lilyrose55
Summary: "All they can contain right now is brown eyes that mirror blues eyes". EO. Rated M. Pls heed to the category and rating.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This fic was my first, and was written 3 yrs ago. It was posted on SVUfiction and now I'm posting it on here, after re-writing it (the things you discover about your writing when you read your first fic…). Anyway, please note that this one is categorized under Hurt/Comfort (and Romance), so please heed to that. However, as I'm not into torturing my beloved characters, unlike a certain show runner, this won't be a torture fic despite the Hurt/Comfort.

One more thing to note about this fic - it goes back and forth in time, between 2 days - Tuesday and Wednesday - it will be marked which is which so the plot flow is clear.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart to **_Cori_**, who beta'd and gave this fic a lot of thought to help make it better. Her insights and heart are all here.

My thanks also go to **PushTheButton** for the avi for this and all my fics :)

"**Blues to Browns"**

**Chapter 1:**

**Wednesday:**

"Close it! Close it down, John, now! Cap needs to see this." Fin is standing over Munch's shoulder, his jaw clenches as he straightens up from looking at the laptop screen.

"Yeah, he's gonna want to handle _this_ himself." Munch mutters, the grimace on his face slightly betraying the shock he's trying to repress.

The two men exit the video room and walk over to Cragen's office. Gaining their boss's attention, Munch then silently places the laptop on the Captain's desk as Fin shuts the office door before saying in a low voice, "Cap, you should see this."

"What is it?"

"CSU found it in the scene. It's a memory card from a camera that was hidden in the corner. It mostly shows a blank wall, but the audio is enough. It recorded everything, and I mean – everything."

"Elliot must have missed it when we got them out," Munch adds.

"We didn't go through all of it, but what we did get through told us we needed to bring it to you," Fin continues.

"If this is what I think it is, it should go to the evidence room," Cragen retorts.

"I think you need to take a look first before you file it," Munch says as he presses the play button. He and Fin then move toward the door. "We'll be outside."

The two partners sit quietly at their desks, fumbling with casefiles, unable to do any real work, as they're quietly waiting for Cragen. When his door opens, he has his coat on and he stops by them.

"Not a word about this to anyone. And not a peep to Benson and Stabler. Understood?"

They nod, looking at each other as they process the fact that Cragen's face is deadly serious and pale.

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Dr. Huang's office door is closed, but the Captain doesn't stop to knock first, he enters and finds Huang behind his desk.

"Captain Cragen, wasn't expecting _you_," the doctor greets him, surprised.

"We have an issue. When is Detective Benson supposed to come in and see you?"

"This afternoon, she didn't give an exact hour and I didn't push."

"She's going to bullshit you and I need your help."

"She usually tries. What happened?"

Cragen hesitates before answering. "As I said, I need your help with her. With Stabler too."

"She is a priority, he isn't. I'll start with her."

"He is now. CSU found this in the scene," Cragen says as he places the small memory card on Huang's pile of papers.

"What is this?"

"I suggest you watch this first. Then we have to talk."

Huang plugs the card to his computer and starts playing the video. A man's voice is heard while the screen only shows a dirty, scratched, white wall:

_"My dear fans, a special treat awaits you today. While Starkey here and I thought we only had one piece of art to share with you, we are delighted to serve you with a second, starring NYPD's own, beautiful Olivia...Olivia Benson. Enjoy folks, till next time." _

Cragen, repulsed even further by hearing the criminal's words a second time, stands up. "I'll wait outside."

**One Day Earlier: Tuesday**

The squad room is crowded. Every detective is there, some uniforms too, all working on a rape-murder case that started simple but turned into a triple homicide.

Three women are found raped and murdered, the same MO applying in all three cases. A week after the second body is found, footage of the first rape-murder is uploaded to the Internet with an introductory voice-over that depicts the content of the film as a piece of art. Computer Crimes and the lab are on it, trying to identify the original computer that uploaded the film, analyze the voice or any background noises, and to basically find any information that might help.

A second and a third films are uploaded, all containing horrific footage of a woman being raped by one man, whose face is shown, and then shot in the head by another, whose face is hidden. They assume that the man, whose face never shows on the films, is probably the one whose voice is recorded giving the introductions to his 'art'. The location of the films seems to be an underground professional audio-recording studio. The first film gave the 'fans' a short tour – a small soundproof room, where the rapes took place on a mattress thrown on the floor, a large glass window dividing it from a small booth that has technical equipment in it. It was as if the 'Director', as they named the voice, wanted to show his audience that he's professional.

Nights and days are spent trying to find any clue about the women, the perps, the location, the computer. They soon learn that the name of the man who's performing the rapes is 'Starkey', as the 'Director' calls him by that name on the third film, as if he's no longer afraid that they'll ever get caught. They also learn that it's probably not his real name and that he's not in any database.

The detectives checked deserted recording studios in the area and didn't find anything, though lab analysis found later what seemed to be traces of blood in two of them. This helped narrowing down their list, as despite the films they couldn't visually identify the interior of the rooms. But while they were canvassing these studios all over again, the third rape-murder took place, telling them they were clearly searching in the wrong place.

"Fin, Munch," Cragen calls above the commotion in the bullpen, "We still need to get some identification on these women. I don't want to get their pictures out to the media yet, so go back to any reports of missing females in the tri-state area. Go back three years. More if you need, just find me something!"

"Got it, Cap," Munch responds.

"Stabler, Benson, I know we've scanned them a few times, but I want you to check the two studios again. See if there's been any change there since our last visit. If these guys are planning their fourth film, they might wanna change location and they might go back to one they've used before. I hate to say it but right now that's our best shot."

"Cap, we thought to start with a visit to our old buddy, Jefferson, see if he knows something about his competition." Elliot says, referring to a convict in Rikers, serving time for a rape-murder he taped and edited as a documentary several years back.

"I don't think that shit knows anything. He's been out of the business for a long time now. Start with the studios," Cragen replies and Elliot is about to argue when the captain interjects. "I know it's a long shot, but we need to go with what we have, and right now we don't have much!"

Elliot hesitates before he nods in consent, rubbing his face with his palm, tiredly muttering "We'll be on our way as soon as Liv's off the phone." He's leaned all the way back in his chair, his feet up on his desk.

Olivia signals them both that she needs another minute. She's waiting on the line and she's running out of patience. She's been on shift for sixteen hours straight, with one short nap break. They've been on this case for weeks and they're all sleep-deprived. She watches Elliot, in jeans and a black cotton pullover, talking to their Captain and of their own accord her eyes skim his face and then glide down to his body that's now reclined, almost lying, in his chair, and it might be the sixteen hours shift getting to her, but she feels like laying her weary head on his chest, for just a minute. She snaps her eyes away from him, refocusing on the glare of her computer screen, because Elliot is her partner, her married partner, and she should probably get her head checked, or better yet - take a shower and get some sleep.

As soon as she places the receiver down, Elliot gets up, puts on his jacket and starts walking towards the exit. He stops to wait for her as she's grabbing hers from the back of her chair. "Got anything new?" he asks, referring to her phone call.

"Nothing," she mutters, pressing her lips together.

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On their way to the car, he breaks the silence. "Liv, you ok?"

"Fine, just tired, and I think I've seen enough snuff films to last me a lifetime," she says and her voice bears a hint of weary sadness. She tucks her hair behind her ear as she slides into the passenger's seat.

They drive quietly. She's leaning her head against the window, deep in thought. She _is _tired, if she could only go home, crawl into bed, tuck the blanket up to her chin and sleep for a week, she'd be a lot better. A repressed shred of a thought, that she never really allows to fully form, gnaws at her. _How would it feel to have Elliot there with her_. She shifts in her seat in an attempt to shake that shadow from her head, because he would probably like to do the same, but at his own home, with his wife, and she has no business allowing her exhaustion to mess with her head.

But it's getting harder. Because in the past year she feels like she's about to lose to herself in the long battle she's been fighting against her heart. Years and years of getting too close and pulling away, of being his partner but also seeing him as a man, of needing him and denying it, of loving him and knowing she can't.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye, as he's driving, and she closes her eyes, pretending to catch a few minutes of sleep.

They stop to search the first location and find nothing. The Police yellow tape is still there, some of it having fallen on the floor, accumulating dust. As soon as they walk out, Elliot checks his watch. "I wanna make it to Rikers," he says and she feels him looking at her as they stride towards the car.

"Ok," she replies and something in his voice makes her turn to look at him.

"Liv, it's a waste of time," the impatience in his voice is clearer now. "We can stop at the second studio on our way back," he continues.

They stop by the squad car as she answers. "El, I have to agree with the Cap here, I don't think Jefferson knows anything." He looks at her questionably so she adds "we'll do it fast, I'll go in, mark a V on it, and then we'll ride to Rikers."

"Ok," Elliot mumbles and throws the car keys over to her.

She catches them and climbs into the driver's seat. She may be battling her own feelings about him, but that doesn't mean she'd let him get away with whatever he tries to pull at work.

As they're driving to the next location, Elliot's cellphone rings. "Stabler," he answers it through the speaker.

"Elliot, Olivia, need you back here, we have some new info I want you to check out." Cragen is nearly barking at them.

"We've covered one studio, one more to go. D'you want us back right now?" Elliot asks, and they look at each other.

"Cover the last one fast and get over here. The facial recognition software finally has a possible match," their Captain replies just as Olivia pulls over in the empty street that houses only a few shabby, semi-deserted industrial buildings.

"For Starkey or any of the victims?" Elliot continues to question.

"Starkey. If he's who we think he is, he's some piece of work. We're trying to look for connections, see if we like anyone for the 'Director'."

"D'you want us to pick him up?" Elliot asks and Olivia signals him that she's going to start the search without him. He nods slightly and she climbs out of the car.

She's standing in front of the wide one-story building that has a cement entrance that leads into an empty storage space. She moves confidently through the entrance and into the large, day-lit space.

Her heels click on the dusty floor and the echoing sound reminds her she's alone until Elliot finishes his conversation with their captain. She unholsters her Glock, wanting to be prepared, just in case. Shreds of police tape are scattered on the floor much like at the first studio, along with empty boxes and old newspapers. She walks over to the door that leads to the basement where the old recording studio used to be. It's on the far side of the wide space and the hinges squeak when she opens it. She leaves the door open and throws a look over her shoulder, through the entrance, and out to what she can see of the squad car from her vantage point, which isn't much.

She takes the first step down to the basement, pauses and then takes two more steps. She then hears the car door slam far behind and she knows that Elliot will be with her in no time. One more step and she feels a sudden rush of adrenaline in her body, which signals her that something is off. She realizes then that she can already see the upper part of the wall and window of the technician booth, and she freezes.

What caused her adrenaline rush was a shock wave, she realizes. Someone fired a gun inside that studio, behind the soundproof glass, and she could feel the wave, though she couldn't hear the sound. She turns her head back and Elliot is still not behind her, but she can't stop. She takes one more step down, her gun held in front of her. But before she can make any further movement, she hears the muffled sound of a silencer and a singeing pain bursts through her right arm, a cry escaping her lips at the sensation.

She stumbles the rest of the way down the stairs, her gun flies out of her hold but she manages to hear Elliot's footsteps and his voice shouting "Liv!" not far behind her, probably at the top of the stairs. Her sight blurs with stinging tears of pain, and she can hardly see the outline of a bulky figure at the foot of the stairs, before she's yanked by her feet, her head hitting the last step in the process.

When she comes to, her vision is still unfocused, but she realizes that she is bound to a chair, that her hands and legs are tied to it. The pain in her arm from the bullet wound in it is so acute that she gasps for air, but then she comprehends the worst – there's duct tape on her mouth and the much needed air refuses to fill her lungs and she suffocates. Her ears buzz and black spots spread and fill her vision. She faints again.

Muffled voices are the first things she notices when she rouses a second time, followed by the pain in her arm, which has somehow lessened. She carefully blinks her eyes open and lifts her head. A shirt is tied around the wound on her arm to stop the bleeding and the tight knot seems to be what's lessened the pain.

Her ears still buzz so she can't make out any words, but her blurry eyesight reveals two men that are standing in front of her. She recognizes one of them, a scrawny man with a long face and greasy wisps of brown hair dangling to his shoulders – Starkey. It startles her out of her stupor. Her eyes skim the room. On the floor there is a heavily stained mattress and a heap of clothes is shoved at the far corner of the small room. She knows what it is, or rather what's under it. It's the 'star' of the men's very recent snuff film, the one she walked in the middle of the last scene of.

Her eyes continue looking around the room, and at the other end, in the shadows, she sees a large figure slouched on the floor.

_Elliot._

She has hardly time to register the horror of their situation, when one of the men approaches her, touching her, sending his hands to her pants, and she's still a bit fuzzy but she realizes that he's reaching for her badge. She tries to focus her gaze on him.

"Well, well, well, good afternoon. What have we here?" the bulky man mocks her and she recognizes his voice. The 'Director'. He's in his late fifties, bald, flabby, and his eyes scrutinize her with contempt. "A cop, a pretty little cop!" he continues, and with a twisted smile he turns her badge from side to side. "Detective 2nd Grade Olivia Benson," he reads. "What? You weren't good enough to be 1st Grade?" he spews.

The 'Director' then shakes his head and reaches to caress her face. She wants to scream, her eyes widen with terror and she's gasping for air through her nose. His fingers stop on her cheeks, holding her face from both sides of her mouth, and he turns her head, looking at her profile, as if he is actually scouting for shooting angles.

"Starkey," he calls to the other man, who, from the corner of her eyes she sees, is now standing near Elliot. "I'll be behind the glass, you handle her," he orders as his fingers dig into her skin before he releases her face.

Her eyes dart to Elliot, but she can hardly see him. From what she can tell though he isn't moving and her heart misses a beat in pain and fear.

The other man comes to stand near her then and Olivia shuts her eyes, tears starting to stream down her face. She cannot move, breathe, talk, scream. All she can do is wish to God that Elliot is okay. Together they still might have a chance.

She can smell Starkey before he touches her. Sweat and alcohol and blood reach her nose. She feels sick. He breathes close to her face and his finger strolls down her neck. She can't open her eyes. She can hardly breathe. Fear and disgust overwhelm her. She's been close to this several times in the past, but this is it. There's no escape. Something inside her withers and she wishes she could stop breathing altogether, just as long as she wouldn't have to smell or feel him.

Suddenly he moves away from her. She dares to open her eyes very narrowly. His back is turned to her and she can tell there is something going on but she can't see what exactly.

_Elliot._

She hears him grunt with pain and a muffled cry of relief reverberates in her throat. At least he's alive. The 'Director' and Starkey both hover over him, though she can't see what they're doing. She frantically tries to move in her chair and throaty sounds come from her as she tries to shout. Starkey turns back and walks over to her again and before she knows it, his flat palm lands on her cheek. Her head jerks and bile rises in her throat.

A moment later, the two men move and she finds that Elliot is seated on the floor, leaning against a wall, his hands are bound behind his back, cuffed to a pipe that runs from the ceiling to the floor. There's duct tape on his mouth. He blinks his eyes but she knows he doesn't see her yet.

"You see, Detective Benson, I knew you people never go around alone. I hope this one's the last." The 'Director' huffs directly in her face, before he turns to exit the small room and resume his place behind the glass.

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Elliot blinks his eyes open, his head and ribs hurt, but his vision is becoming focused; and as it does, his blood turns into a scorching acid of rage and fear in his veins, erasing everything except for what he sees in front of him: Olivia tied to a chair, Starkey pacing around her, circling her, his dirty fingers stroking her face and neck and the olive skin that the collar of her shirt left exposed. She's not looking at Starkey though, she's looking directly at him, her eyes are screaming to him, her hair is wet with sweat, clinging to her face and neck, and her chest heaves with effort to breathe.

_How the fuck did I let this happen? _Every nerve in his body is twitching. His eyes are locked on hers, as he tries to repress his horror for her sake.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks to all those who read and reviewed, I really appreciate your words! Reminding you all again the back-and-forth in time in this fic, which I hope isn't too confusing. I'm also repeating my words of warning - this fic is rated M and is under the Hurt/Comfort category, pls adhere to that.

**Chapter 2:**

**One Day Later. Wednesday morning:**

Everything is quiet around him. Kathy is out and he is alone, standing in his kitchen, absentmindedly holding an OJ bottle, which he's forgetting to drink. When his cellphone rings, he's taken aback.

"Stabler," he answers and his voice sounds hoarse and strange in his ears.

"Elliot, I need you to drop by Huang's office this afternoon," the man on the line orders, but his tone is softer than usual.

His blood rushes in his veins. "What is it, Cap?"

"He wants to check in on you and Olivia. Routine." Cragen's voice is neutral and Elliot hopes that they're off the psych evaluation hook, because if there's anything he doesn't need right now, it's that.

"Ok," he says.

"Elliot, if you need anything..." his Captain starts again and it makes him uneasy.

"Sure, cap." He mumbles his response as he hangs up. All he needs is to know that she's ok.

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It's early in the afternoon when Huang hears the hesitant knock on the door.

"Yes," he calls and the door opens slowly, as if the person on the side is still trying to decide whether to come in at all.

When she finally does appear, he greets her in a soft voice "Olivia, Hi," and rises to usher her in, adding "I was expecting you."

"Hey," she answers with a faint smile.

"Please, have a seat." He waits for her to sit before he moves to the other side of the desk, to his own chair. "How are you doing today, Olivia?" He asks and he tries to sound sympathetic and concerned, yet not alarmed.

"Fine," she says and he hears the effort she has to put in to sound neutral.

"Olivia, I don't want you to feel compelled, but we have to talk about what happened yesterday. You know I can help you," he says and he knows he's almost pleading, but he has to get her to trust him with this.

She's silent so he continues, his voice still soft, but more assertive. "You've been through a traumatic experience, Olivia, there's no point in ignoring that, you know it by now."

"I'm fine," she mutters and she's too tired to even sound impatient.

"I've read your statement. I really think it would help if you talked about it." He tilts his head as he watches her.

"Ok. What do you want to know?" she asks in a flat tone. This is not going to be easy, he realizes.

"I would like to know how you feel about yesterday."

"I've been through situations like these in the past," she replies.

Her eyes focus on the diplomas on the wall behind him. She's evading him, so he decides to go directly at it.

"Olivia, there was another camera hidden in that studio, other than the one Elliot destroyed. CSU found it."

He can practically see her shudder. "So?" she asks in a desperate attempt to remain cool.

"I know what happened in that basement, Olivia, and I'm here to help you," he expels.

She shuts her eyes for a moment, trying to push away the sting of threatening tears. "Who else seen it?" she asks and it's all the admission he needs.

"Cragen."

_Cragen. He'll split us. _It's an automatic thought, right before reality strikes back. _We wouldn't be able to continue either way. _

"Olivia...let me help you. You can trust me. If it's any comfort, most of the video is actually audio, the camera was focused on a wall." But he sees that she is lost within herself, her eyes locking the tears inside. He knows she will shed them sooner or later though. He'd rather it'd be sooner, so he could help.

"Tell me what you're thinking about now, what concerns you the most," he tries another method.

The first tear starts falling down her cheek. It's followed by another. Slow tears. She is not sobbing. A strange, hoarse laugh comes out of her, taking Huang by surprise.

He rises from his chair and walks over to her side of the desk, sitting himself on the edge of it, close to her seat. "Olivia, what's the first thing that comes to your mind? Tell me, we will walk through it together."

_How is he handling it? What is he going through now? Did he tell Kathy? When will I see him? How will I look at him? _She can't speak yet, she can't find her voice.

She is still not looking at him and George decides to take an even more direct approach, thinking she must be shell-shocked. "Olivia, you were raped. You need to talk about it."

"I wasn't raped," she says in a cracked voice, almost immediately, and her gaze hangs on his face. The direct approach works.

"You deal with rape every day, you were attacked in the past, you urge victims to talk about it."

"I know. It never goes away. I was…we were attacked, but I wasn't raped. You saw the tape."

Huang freezes.

_'You can sit here and watch Starkey do it, Detective Stabler, or I can sit here and watch you do it. Your choice. My fans will love it anyway.'_

"Yes, I did," Huang softly replies. "It happened to the both of you." Although he couldn't see exactly what happened, the audio was clear enough.

"It's a punishment," she manages to say.

"Punishment for what, Olivia? Why do you think you're being punished?"

Tears are now streaming from her eyes down to her cheeks. She bends her head, trying to say something but failing. He waits.

"He saved me. From that sadist," she falters, "he chose to spare _me_."

"Olivia, did you have a doubt that he would? We'll talk about Elliot later, but this happened to you too. Where are you in all this? Why do you think this was your punishment?"

"Because...not like this, but..." She whispers. _She can't say it._

"Because at some point before, you fantasized about having a sexual intercourse with your partner?" He knows he must keep it in the clean, detached, matter-of-fact jargon, or she'll retreat into herself again.

She doesn't move now. Her hair is covering her face as her head remains bowed down, and he can see her tears dripping to her lap.

Having been watching Benson and Stabler for years, Huang is not surprised. He knew for a fact how much they cared for each other, he saw the strong attachment, he's witnessed the glances they exchange, the emotional synchronization even when they clash, the occasional flirtation.

Their daily routine throws them together into emotional situations that most people never have to deal with and share. That, combined with the strong connection, the feelings he suspects they harbor for one another, and especially the inability to express these emotions, entangle them further and further in a relationship they both don't know how to deal with.

In his best judgment, the feelings are mutual. Actually, more than once, he's thought that Elliot's rage is partially related to his frustration at the situation he's in, which prevents him from admitting even to himself how he feels about her, let alone acting upon it. His partner is probably the only person who knows which switch to use to extinguish his anger, or at least, to contain it.

"Olivia, it's only natural. You are human, and so is he. What happened yesterday is not a punishment for that," he carefully puts his palm on her shoulder, just to get her back to talking.

"I saw tears," she says, her throat clogged.

"He probably hated to hurt you, Olivia. I'm sure that he is very concerned about you too now."

"He has more to lose than I do," she says quietly, right before she stands up. "Are we finished here?" she asks in an assertive, steady voice. "I'd like to go home if that's ok."

Huang decides that he won't get much further with her today, she needs to digest. "Yes. But please meet with me tomorrow too. I will expect to see you here, Olivia and be sure to take time off. Cragen doesn't expect you at least till next week."

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This is probably one of the most complex and difficult cases he's ever dealt with. Huang sits in his chair, wondering how to fill out this report, when the door opens and he raises his eyes to see Elliot walking into his office.

"Cragen said you wanted to see me?" the detective blurts, still standing near the door, as if he's hoping that this is some kind of mistake.

Huang stands up and walks towards him. "Yes. Please come in. Have a seat."

Elliot sits down, rubbing his hand over his face. "So, what is it?" he asks in a rough tone.

"Elliot, I've read your report and I understand yesterday was not easy." Huang leans against the desk, facing him.

Elliot raises his eyes to him and he can plainly read the impatient contempt in the blue gaze.

"How are you handling it, Elliot?" he asks, knowing the ire he may receive in response.

"I'm handling it alright," the answer is almost spewed at him.

"Nothing you want to talk about?"

Elliot stares at him suspiciously. "Was Olivia here already?" he questions.

"Yes, she was."

"How is she?" Elliot asks and for the first time there's something else in his eyes and his voice. Softness.

"She is...she has issues that she'll need to work through. And you, Elliot, what about you?"

"What _about_ me?" Elliot's eyes shutter again and he shifts in his seat.

"Elliot, there was another camera in the basement. CSU found it. I know what happened there." The direct approach again.

Elliot clenches his jaw as this realization dawns on him. "Who else seen it?" he echoes Olivia's question and his voice is rough again. His eyes are distant, focused on a blank spot somewhere in front of him.

"Just me and Cragen."

"Does Liv know?"

"Yes, she does." He hesitates before he continues. "Elliot, you have both been subject to severe trauma. Let me help."

A pounding headache threatens to burst his brain as the whirlwind of questions runs through Elliot's mind. He leans his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his palms, rubbing it and his temples. _How is she? What is she going through? How will she look at him now? Will he ever be able to talk to her about this? How do they continue from here? What will Cragen do? And, oh, yes, the thought that has been hovering there, what will he do about Kathy?_

After a beat, he abruptly stands up and walks over to the other side of the room. "How did she take it?" he asks, leaning against the wall and Huang feels like he's under interrogation.

"I can't tell you, you will have to ask her. How are you taking it, Elliot?"

"Me? How d'you think I'm taking it?" he growls and the contempt is back in his eyes. He starts pacing along the wall and his hand lifts to rub his neck.

"I don't know. There are many ways a person can react to something like that," George replies.

Silence.

"What's eating you, Elliot?" he asks quietly, carefully, because Elliot can leave the room at any second and he feels that they've made progress despite the man's attitude. "There must be that one thing that you keep going back to."

Silence. Elliot is looking down at the floor and from where he sits, Huang can see the muscle that twitches in his jaw.

"Elliot?"

"That I enjoyed it." Elliot spits every word out of his mouth. He raises his head and looks into Huang's face and a bitter smile spreads over his as he continues. "She was raped and I enjoyed it. How's that for 'how am I taking it'?"

Huang was waiting for it. He's calm when he responds. "If you're referring to the natural response of the body to stimulation, than you know better than I do, that it's natural and that it doesn't mean that you enjoyed it. Why do _you_ think you enjoyed it?"

Elliot rubs his face wearily and casts his eyes down again.

"Because the thought of doing it crossed your mind in the past?" Huang decides to use the direct approach again and it works, because Elliot's eyes bore into his face and he can read rage in them. "Not assaulting her. I meant having sex with her," he explains. The fact that Elliot still hasn't left the room tells him all he needs to know, although the other man's eyes evade him again and his fists keep clenching. "You were forced to do it, Elliot. Even if you ever had a romantic or sexual fantasy about your partner, you would never hurt her. What happened in that room was traumatic for you too."

Huang looks at him, knowing that the only real way of getting to him would be using the words of the only person Elliot will believe. "Olivia doesn't feel she was raped. She feels you saved her from _getting _raped."

At this, Elliot raises his eyes back to look at Huang. "I didn't know I would react like that," he mumbles, "but being so close, her goddamn smell…I…," he's probably realized he's said more than he meant to, because the sentence dies on his lips.

"You care about her a lot. You wanted to spare her from suffering even more than she already did. Your physical reaction was natural, Elliot."

Elliot doesn't answer and Huang hopes he's getting through to him.

"Olivia said she thinks you have more to lose than she does. What do you think she meant by that?" Huang decides to get to his point from a different angle.

"I don't know." _Kathy._

"You must know what she meant. You two understand each other very well."

Silence.

"Did you tell your wife about what happened, Elliot?" Huang knows pushing him to a certain point will get more out of him, just as long as he doesn't push too much.

A blue gaze shoots daggers at him. "Don't bring my wife into this."

"So you didn't tell her. Why not?" he pushes a little more.

"Because she has nothing to do with this right now," Elliot replies through gritted teeth after a pause.

"Are you afraid she won't understand?"

"She won't. But it doesn't matter. What would you choose? Letting that sadist get her or…?" Elliot's eyes drill into him again, and there's a plea in them.

Huang presses his lips together. "It doesn't matter what I'd choose. Maybe this is what Olivia meant, Elliot. You chose her over yourself. You chose to protect her without thinking what it might do to you."

Elliot's jaw clenches and he breathes deeply before answering. "I wouldn't change my choice."

"I know you wouldn't." Huang allows a slight, understanding smile to appear on his face.

Elliot stills for a moment, before he starts for the door.

"Elliot, you were both forced into it, and you each feel sorry for the other," George hurries to say. "I think you should talk to Olivia yourself. Don't avoid each other. " Elliot nods once and opens the door. "Come see me again please. Tomorrow, if possible. Cragen is not going to do anything till he hears from me," Huang adds as Elliot lingers in the doorway before closing the door behind him.

**One Day Earlier. Tuesday:**

"He's up." Starkey points out, moving away from Olivia and over to where Elliot half-lies on the floor. The 'Director' enters through the door that connects the room and the technician's booth. He stoops and unclips Elliot's badge.

"Detective First Grade, Elliot Stabler," he announces merrily and Starkey kicks Elliot's side. Elliot grunts through his taped mouth, his eyes open as he tries to regain focus.

Elliot attempts to straighten up but his hands are cuffed behind him. He looks up at the two men.

"Well, Detective Stabler, as you can see, we were in the middle of something here. I really don't appreciate your intruding," the 'Director' says and shifts a bit in anticipation of Elliot's reaction when he sees Olivia. The shock that registers in Elliot's eyes moments later thrills him. "Well, Starkey, the show _must_ go on," the 'Director' mutters and exits the room, back into the booth, looking at the three of them through the glass.

Starkey returns to his position next to Olivia and touches her. Elliot starts moving, throwing his head from side to side, kicking his legs, rattling the cuffs against the pipe, anything to get the guy's attention so he'll be busy with him and not with Olivia. He wants to get him to take the duct tape off his mouth so he can talk to the son of a bitch.

But Starkey doesn't budge. Instead, he releases one of Olivia's hands from the chair and with her handcuffs, he cuffs it to a pipe at the head of the mattress that's thrown on the floor next to the chair. Her body is stretched sideways as her hand pulls her while her body is still tied to the chair. He uses this position of hers to quickly release her legs from the duct tape, then her other hand, and move her to the mattress, cuffing her other hand to the pipe as well. Olivia is lying on the stained mattress, her legs are free, but her mouth is still taped and her hands are cuffed above her head to the pipe. The shirt that's tied to her arm to stop the blood is soggy.

She starts kicking her legs, trying to hit his crotch, and Starkey points a gun at her. "Stop it, bitch," he spits in a flat tone.

"Olivia, my dear, stop trying. You don't want to do this, trust me," the 'Director's voice is heard in the room, through the speakers. "Starkey, get to it, we don't have much time."

Starkey captures Olivia's legs and locks them between his. He fumbles with the button of her pants and desperate cries leave her throat. He yanks the pants off her and bends down, pressing her legs to the mattress with his knees. She squirms under him, but he doesn't falter. With a knife he takes out of his boot, he cuts the top of her shirt and then he rips it open with both his hands, exposing her black bra. Olivia's eyes are wide with horror, she shakes her head and muffled yelps clog her throat, as she desperately tries to breathe and scream at the same time.

From his spot on the floor across the room, Elliot can see her flushed face, the tears that are streaming from her eyes to her temples. He doesn't' stop kicking and rattling his cuffed hands to draw the attention to him. His wrists are bloody with the effort but he continues.

Starkey stands up and starts unbuckling his belt, as Olivia wriggles her body from side to side, and keeps kicking her legs, the skin on her wrists is getting torn as she struggles.

_Where the hell is backup? They've probably realized by now that they're gone missing. They should be looking for them. They should know where they are._ Elliot tries to stall for time, attempting to shout through his taped mouth, but only throaty sounds come out. He's never felt so helpless in his life.

"Detective Stabler, I see you are causing quite a commotion here," the director's mocking voice suddenly sounds in the room again and Elliot knows that he has managed to buy them some time.

Starkey turns to look at him.

"You want some attention too. I understand. We all want to be stars, don't we?" the 'Director' continues. And then, after a short pause, as the new idea sinks into his sick mind, he calmly speaks again. "You can sit here and watch Starkey do it, Detective Stabler, or I can sit here and watch you do it. Your choice. My fans will love it anyway."

Elliot freezes. He looks at Olivia, who stops struggling too. She strains her neck to turn so she can look at him too. Their eyes meet and so many wordless exchanges take place. Elliot gently nods his head, his eyes still locked on her.

"Well, Starkey, get him," the 'Director' orders and Starkey moves towards Elliot. He bends to uncuff him, while pointing the gun to his head. "Don't think he'll hesitate, Detective," the mocking voice of the 'Director' sounds again, "he's in it for the shooting, not for the sex."

Elliot's hands are then free and he slowly stands up. His ribs hurt where he was kicked when they caught him, and his head spins from the sudden change in posture. Starkey's gun is still pointed to his temple, and the man then slides it to the back of his head as he walks behind him towards Olivia. Tears are streaming from her eyes, she's looking at him, begging him to do something. When he stops to stand near the mattress, their gazes lock together.

"Detective, you're the star of the show now," the 'Director' laughs, before bellowing, "Starkey!"

Starkey understands the cue. "Take them off," he says to Elliot in a grating voice, as he pushes the gun harder into his skull. Olivia lies there with her hands still stretched and cuffed, her bra and panties exposed, her skin shining with sweat.

She watches Elliot slowly unbuckling his belt. He holds her gaze and she knows he's trying to stall for even more time than he's managed to buy them so far, but she sees Starkey stick the muzzle further into Elliot's head and she knows Elliot has no choice but to unzip and unbutton his pants then. Starkey tugs at them till they fall to the floor. He then pushes Elliot and kicks his knee from behind, causing Elliot to fall to his knees, at the foot of the mattress. With a further shove of the gun to his head, Starkey pushes him further to lie on top of Olivia. Elliot balances his fall with his hands at both sides of her head, knowing that if he crashes on her, his weight would pull at her cuffed hands and wound her further. Her skin is wet and hot, and she looks into his face which is now so close to hers, before she shuts her eyes.

_**TBC**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks again for all those who read and those that review. Some of you post reviews as 'guest' so I can't reply and thank you in person, so wanted you to know that I appreciate your encouragement. I know this fic's subject matter isn't easy, so thanks for sticking with me. Chapter 3 must be the most difficult one though, and wasn't easy to write. So...here goes...

**Chapter 3:**

A ripping sound. She opens her eyes. Starkey pulled the tape off Elliot's mouth. In a second, and with a sharp pain, the tape is off hers too. "Elliot," she manages to whisper, her voice hoarse.

"Liv, you alright?" he manages to huff. She nods once. "Your arm?" he questions and she nods again. "We'll be ok," he quickly whispers and she feels his breath on her face.

He doesn't know how much more time he can stall but he needs to reassure her. It feels like forever, but they can both guess that less than two minutes have passed since Starkey released him from the cuffs.

"Detectives, don't try to waste time. My fans are not into foreplay. Just do it." The 'Director's impatient voice sounds again.

Elliot tries to turn his head to look at him, as Starkey is now pointing the gun at them from a few steps away. But as soon as he tries to change his position, he feels the gun at his temple. "Do as you're told," Starkey barks at him.

"Wait, you don't want to do this. Either of you," Elliot says, "We've got backup on the way. D'you think we'd be stupid enough to come here alone? Let us go and I'll make sure you're treated right." His voice is steady, though Olivia can sense the effort he has to pull from deep within himself to make it so. She can also feel his voice vibrating in his chest as his body presses to her.

"You're stupid enough, alright," the 'Director' answers through the speaker. "If you were smart, you and your beautiful partner wouldn't be lying half naked in my shooting location. And 'shooting' has two meanings here, Detective."

"That doesn't change the fact that our backup is on its way," Elliot speaks again and Starkey shoves the gun harder against his head, making him turn it to the other side, away from where he stands.

"I doubt anyone will come searching for you for quite a while, and for what I need – you have plenty of time. So get on with it!" The 'Director' yells the last words. "Starkey, don't let him bullshit you," he turns to Starkey now, "just make him!"

"She's wounded. Let her go. I'll stay," Elliot tries, and she feels his hand stealthily gliding over the mattress and she knows what he's doing – he's trying to reach Starkey's leg, because he's standing right next to them and Elliot might be able to trip him up. The 'Director' is also armed but they'll worry about that after they get Starkey. She has to divert him so Elliot can succeed, so she directs her eyes at Starkey and tries to whisper to him so that her voice wouldn't reach the 'Director'. "Don't listen to him. We can make sure _you'll_ get out of it. We'll say he forced you," she's bullshitting but she hopes he believes her, because right now, that's all the options they've got.

"Shut up, whore!" Starkey spits and Olivia falls silent, as she sees Elliot's hand on the other man's leg. He holds Starkey's ankle and pulls him, and Starkey stumbles and nearly falls, but at the last minute he manages to balance himself and he falters backwards, away from them, the gun still in his hand, aimed at them.

Elliot can finally turn his head to where Starkey stands and she can feel his body tensing over her.

"You see, _that_ wasn't a smart thing to do, Detectives," the 'Director' chides as Starkey's face contorts with anger and he hisses "motherfucker" at Elliot. They can both see that he would love to kick Elliot right now, but he doesn't dare come near them again.

The door between the booth and the main room is flung open and the 'Director' enters with Olivia's glock directed at them. "I'll have to watch from here now I guess, if that's alright with you two," he mocks. "You'd better do it right and not ruin my film either," he adds in a sneer

With two guns aimed at them, every hope is lost.

"If you don't start doing what I told you to, Starkey here will be happy to take your place, Detective," the 'Director' threatens after a second, looking at Elliot, and Olivia eyes Starkey who slides his hand to his crotch, cupping himself through his open pants, laughing in her face. She diverts her eyes in disgust and then turns her head away from where he stands. And because Elliot is above her, her movement means that her face ends up in the crook of his neck. She breathes against his skin, his familiar scent filling her, and in the midst of this hell they're both in, it somewhat soothes her.

"Did you hear what I said?" the 'Director' screams.

Elliot turns his head to look at her and his warm breath mixes with hers. They're both sweating and if she could, she'd reach her hand and wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. The warmth and strength of his body is comforting. He covers her completely and she doesn't feel exposed anymore. It's _him. _It's _Elliot. It will be ok._ She looks into his eyes, they are soft and deep and blue. She knows that if she lets herself drown in them, the rest will somehow be all right. "Elliot, it's ok," she whispers, trying to comfort herself again as well.

"Starkey!" she hears the 'Director' bark, and in a second Olivia feels the cold steel against her thigh, as Starkey cuts the side string of her panties with his knife. He uses the opportunity to kick Elliot in the ribs again. Elliot's face twitches with pain. "Sonofabitch," he hisses.

"El," his name falls on her lips and if she could, she'd hold him till the pain subsides.

He looks at her again, his eyes move between hers. He wants to warn her. She locks her eyes with his and blinks her understanding, and Elliot lowers his head and places a soft kiss on her forehead. Then, with one hand he caresses her face, his palm on her cheek. "Liv, I'm sorry," he mouths, his voice hardly perceptible, and she closes her eyes as Elliot kisses both of them and her tears start falling again, the gentle gesture inducing them. She feels his thumbs wiping away the tears that slide to her temples.

"She's all ready for you now, just fuck her, or Starkey will," the 'Director' spits again and his voice is now unbearably close to them. She squeezes her eyelids tight, trying to keep his presence and his words from reaching her.

"Liv," Elliot's voice vibrates in her ear, "block him out. Don't listen to him," he whispers and his breath brushes her skin. She nods once. She needs something to hold on to instead of darkness, so she opens her eyes and her gaze is met with his. There's moisture in his eyes, and she knows that they're in this together. She can't talk, she doesn't have to, their eyes communicate, so she just blinks and Elliot's lips graze her right temple and then her eye again and she knows he can taste the salt of her tears.

He's leaning on his forearms that are on both sides of her, his palms cupping the sides of her head, his fingers splaying on her cheeks and through her hair. When he kisses the bridge of her nose, she realizes that it feels like forever, but that it's been maybe five minutes since Elliot was shoved to lie on top of her. His face is so close to hers, and holding her gaze, Elliot shifts a bit and his lips brush hers. At this blurring proximity all she can do is drown in the pools of blue and try to forget about everything else. When his mouth covers hers and she feels the soft kiss Elliot imprints on her lips, Olivia's eyes drift shut and somewhere between them she can feel a heart thumping, and she allows the rhythm of it to deafen her to anything outside of the two of them.

Elliot kisses her softly again, only their lips touching, and she has no idea if she kisses him back or what the rest of her body feels, because all she knows is that he's doing his best not to invade her, and that the wall of his chest shields her, and that his body protects her from the evil around them.

And in the midst of this fog she's ordered herself to submerge in, she feels Elliot's body suddenly moving against hers as someone shouts.

It's Starkey's voice. He kicks Elliot's right shin, yelling "get on with it, or I'll shoot _her_!" In his peripheral view Elliot sees the gun aimed at Olivia's head.

"Get him the fuck away," Elliot gruffs in a low voice as he turns his head in an attempt to look at the 'Director', who stands where they can't see him from their position, outside the camera's range. Elliot can only hear his voice as he mutters "Starkey" and the other man moves away from them.

The fog that filled her has dispersed and her eyes unwillingly open again, but luckily all she can see is Elliot, tilting his head down to look at her again, and in his eyes she reads the reflection of her own desperation and his equally painful need to focus on each other only.

She lifts her head from the mattress and her mouth meets his, unwilling to let the weight of their decision crush him alone. She kisses his lips just as softly as he had hers, then her head falls back on the mattress and she closes her eyes as Elliot's mouth remains on hers and he kisses her back, their lips slightly agape and a shade of what he tastes like reaching her. His hand caresses her face and then slides to her neck and shoulders, and she feels the beating of someone's heart as the fog encloses her again. And it must be Elliot's mouth that she feels on her cheek and ear and neck, and his body that she feels shifting on top of hers, his voice in her ear and his hands that she feels between them, touching her gently.

And it can be a second or forever, she doesn't know, but she somehow has hope again, somehow feels a little safer, because everything about his scent and touch and strength feels familiar. She does know that she's not alone and that he's there with her, as he always is. So when it's Elliot's finger that she feels checking for moisture between her legs, she doesn't let the conscious layer - that realizes that he's doing this to ensure that he won't hurt her if he penetrates her - to infiltrate the blinding and deafening fog that surrounds her. And when it's Elliot's erection that she feels forming against her, she prays that Elliot has a fog to detach him too, because he needs to be spared from this just as much as she does.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

It's Olivia and he knows that his body is reacting to her instinctively. But in the conscious layer of his mind, Elliot knows that there's only one way to do this and still have hope to maintain his sanity and hers – detaching himself from all of it by treating it almost surgically, while being there for her completely, remembering that it's her and him, holding on to her and let her hold on to him. And praying.

"Liv, I'm sorry," he whispers, and he feels tears stinging his eyes, as she slightly nods her head and a few tears continue to slide to her temples. He lowers his head and kisses the trail of tears, before he buries his face in her neck and gently reaches his hand between them, over the torn fabric of her panties, and with his finger he carefully checks for moisture.

He feels her body stiffening beneath him and he caresses her face again. Without changing her position, as her pelvis is completely covered by his and thus hidden from view, he prepares them for what they can't avoid. He lowers his boxers and his hand gently spreads one of her thighs to the side, as little apart as is needed, then he slowly penetrates her.

She draws a gasp of air and locks it in her lungs. He kisses her lips softly to release it and Olivia's eyes slowly drift open allowing them to gaze into each other's eyes, as he starts moving inside her. They focus on each other and block the 'Director's voice. He speaks but they don't know what he says, because all they can contain right now is brown eyes that mirror blues eyes.

With one hand Elliot again strokes her face, his other is circles her head, as if he's trying to detach her from what is going on with the lower part of their bodies.

He moves deep inside her and she feels his breath quickening. If her hands were free, she would have caressed the pain off his face. Her mouth is not taped, but she has no words to speak. Her eyes are talking to him though. _Elliot, I'm sorry._

He feels his peak nearing and he doesn't want her to see him as it does. Elliot buries his face between Olivia's neck and shoulder, as he comes inside her.

Olivia felt his faster, desperate thrusts and she now knows he is near. She shuts her eyes as his warm breath is expelled onto her neck and she feels his body shaking to the end.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

"Bravo, Bravo, Detectives." The voice forces them back to the room. Back to hell.

Elliot is yanked off of her, as Starkey pulls him up by his shirt. On his knees Elliot succeeds in quickly rearranging his boxer briefs and taking his pullover off in one quick motion and throw it over her to cover her body.

"You got what you wanted. Now let her go," Elliot growls breathlessly as Starkey further pulls him up to stand by his short sleeved tee-shirt.

The 'Director' laughs. "You had your fun, Detective. Now it's Starkey's turn."

"You son of a bitch!" Elliot yells and his rage can no longer be contained. He launches at the man, but Starkey presses the barrel into his skull.

"Play nicely, Detective," the 'Director' mocks, his gun aimed at Olivia as he retreats to the door and back to the technician's booth.

She's cold. Her skin is wet and Elliot's warmth is gone. She tries to draw warmth from his shirt when she realizes this is not over yet. She looks at the scene in front of her, at Elliot who is walked back by Starkey to where he was cuffed before.

She lets out a raging scream before she can form any words and the three men almost freeze. Elliot and Starkey turn to her and then the words spill out of her. "Just put the bullet through my head! Do it! I beg you to shoot me. That's what you want, don't you? So shoot me! Do it!" she screams.

Elliot uses the opportunity of Starkey's momentary distraction and grabs his hand. In a quick maneuver he twists his hand and gets hold of the firearm and shoots Starkey in the stomach. It takes the 'Director' a second to realize what has happened, but once he does, he rushes to the door. Elliot is quicker though and aims the weapon at him. "Just try, you sick son of a bitch," he hisses through gritted teeth.

The 'Director' remains at the door, their guns are aimed at each other. Without taking his eyes and gun off the 'Director', Elliot bends down and reaches for the cuffs keys in Starkey's pants. He seizes them and slowly moves towards Olivia. With one hand he uncuffs her and she sits up. Elliot then moves to stand with his back to her, shielding her from the gun that's aimed at them both now, and hiding her exposed body from the eyes of the other man. She has lost feeling in both her arms, but she manages to grab her pants and put them on and then to quickly pull on Elliot's shirt over her torn top.

When she stands, her stomach clenches from inside, as Olivia feels a surge of fluids between her legs. It drenches her pants, but like another act of mercy, she finds that Elliot's shirt is long enough to cover it.

She walks over to where Starkey is lying, squirming on the floor, then moves to the other side of the room. She crouches by the heap of clothes that covers the body of the fourth victim and removes it, looking at the woman's beaten face. She checks for pulse though she knows she won't find any.

When she turns to look at Elliot, he's hinting with his eyes for her to keep quiet. She looks over at the 'Director' and sees their backup now sneaking behind him.

"Police. Drop your weapon. Now."

The 'Director' throws his gun to the floor and raises his hands above his head. A police officer cuffs him and drags him out of there, reading him his rights.

Only then, Elliot, who has kept Starkey's gun aimed at the door, drops his arms to his sides. He looks over at her again and their eyes meet just as Cragen enters the room. Paramedics follow him in and stop to treat Starkey who's lying in a pool of blood.

"You two ok?" Cragen asks, his eyes taking in the mattress on the floor, the visible wounds on them, the cuffs that are strewn around, and Olivia in Elliot's shirt.

"Yeah," Elliot replies, his voice flat. "Their last victim is over there," he points Cragen to the body and walks out of the room, and Olivia, who's still crouched next to it, wonders which one of them he's meant.

She follows him with her eyes, till he stops at the other side of the glass, pulls the camera off its stand and smashes it to the floor. He stomps on it furiously till Cragen rushes out to him. "Elliot!" he calls, "this is evidence. What d'you think you're doing?"

Elliot doesn't answer, he doesn't even give him more than a quick glance. Instead, he gazes at her through the glass and their eyes lock together once more. Cragen moves his head between them. "I want both your statements, now," he orders.

Olivia looks at Elliot. She knows what to give as a statement. She knows he'll say the same.

_**TBC**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Tuesday Night: **

Olivia enters her apartment, having been dropped off by Fin, who hadn't said much during the drive there, taking her silence as admission that she wasn't ready to talk.

She hadn't seen Elliot after they were taken aside for their statements. She'd given hers very briefly and dryly, mentioning only that Starkey had tried to attack her, but that she and Elliot had managed to take over the situation before anything happened. It was enough for the moment,, but since Elliot had shot Starkey, she knew that IAB would be involved, and Tucker wouldn't let them get away with such evasive statements.

She'd allowed the paramedics to treat her arm in the ambulance, but she'd refused to be taken to the hospital. When Cragen had approached her and handed back her badge and her Glock, he'd looked into her eyes. "D'you want me or Fin to ride with you?" he'd asked.

"No need, I'm ok, it's just a scratch. I'm going home," she'd replied.

"You sure?" he'd insisted and she'd seen that he'd doubted her but that he'd not wanted to push her.

She'd brushed him off, promised to go see a doctor later and agreed to meet with Huang the next day, but she'd known that it wasn't over yet, that it was just beginning.

Now she enters the bathroom, and only when she peels Elliot's shirt off her body and takes her pants off, she allows herself to cry. Under the hot spray, she washes off the remnants of hell along with the remnants of compassion, the nightmare of Starkey's fingers along with the memory of Elliot's touch.

She then crawls into bed and she knows that sleep won't save her tonight. She hears his voice in her head, whispering 'Liv, I'm sorry' and tears fill her eyes again, because nothing she can do can erase or fix or undo what happened to them. Nothing can make it alright again and rewind it back to where they were only this morning.

In the dead hours of the night, amidst recollections of horror, of feeling trapped and doomed and helpless, flicker blue-eyed ghosts of relief and comfort, and something inside her yearns for that now. As the night sky fades into gray, she thinks that one day she might somehow be able to lock away the horrifying memories, but that she could never forsake the memory of Elliot, because her own body and skin, her insides remind her of him. When the sun rises and shreds of something that resembles sleep trap her, Olivia aches with need to hold on to comfort, to safety, to stability. But Elliot is home now, so far from her, and she can feel every inch of the distance.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

When Elliot parks outside his house and enters through the back door, everything is quiet. As he climbs the stairs to his bedroom he sees that a small light is on and he finds Kathy getting ready for bed. With her pink robe over her pajamas, the blonde ponytail that caresses her nape as she's removing the covers off their bed, she and this room are a universe apart from where he's just been.

He'd given his statement, refused medical treatment and drove home in the squad car. "Get Liv's arm checked," he'd told their Captain before he drove off. He wanted to be home, but now that he's here it feels foreign.

"Elliot," Kathy calls with surprise, turning to look at him. "I didn't know when you were supposed to get home. You look tired. Rough day?" she asks and he wants to laugh and cry and scream.

"Yeah," he mutters.

"Been a long shift," she says as she approaches him. "Did you guys have any breakthrough with this case?" It's been all over the news and she knows he's working on it.

"I need a shower," he manages to say before the hand she's reached out touches him, and he bolts towards the bathroom. He can't have her touch him. Not when he's soaked in Olivia's smell and sweat and touch. Not now, and somewhere deep inside him there's a frightening realization, maybe not ever.

"Did you eat?" she calls after him.

"Yeah, don't worry," he mumbles as he closes the door behind him, and he wishes he'd have gone to the crib tonight, because being here he suddenly feels misplaced, although this is his home, his wife, his life. But his life isn't the same as it was this morning, isn't the same as it was before Olivia. It's fucked up, he thinks, to look at it that way, but the truth of it still hangs on to his insides.

He takes a long shower. Just stands there under the hot spray with his eyes closed, hoping that the sound and feel of the water will help clear the turmoil in his mind. But when he emerges out of the bathroom, he feels the same as when he entered; he's still in tumult, he still feels foreign in this home and he can still feel Olivia branded on his body.

Kathy is fast asleep when he returns to the bedroom and he takes his cellphone with him downstairs to the living room. The dark room is illuminated only by the lights that permeate from the street and by the light that glows from the screen as he opens and closes the phone, as he's typing and erasing, calling and not pressing the button. He wants to know if she's ok, he wants to know if there's anything left of what they used to be, but he can't bring himself to reach out to her, because he has no idea what to ask, what to say, what to beg of her.

He spends the night on the couch, though sleep never comes to rescue him from the basement that haunts him.

When the first rays of Wednesday sun fill the living room, he finally does succumb to sleep. He wakes to an empty house, as Kathy and Eli are out, and guilt settles in him, because he's glad to be alone, as he still feels like a stranger here, and because the string that viscerally attaches him to someone else is painfully tugging at his chest though miles and consequences separate them.

**Wednesday Evening:**

He'd left Huang's office hours ago and sat in his car and tried to fathom what the hell to do with the fact that this was no longer something that could remain between him and Olivia, and not even between him, Olivia and the 'Director'. Starkey was dead; his Captain had updated him before he went in to see Huang. This definitely meant IAB would be involved, but it also meant that they still had a chance to keep it all a secret, because who would believe that sick psycho 'Director' over them, if they said nothing had happened in that basement. But with the hidden camera and the footage he missed coming to light, the truth was out there now and Cragen and Huang, and probably others, knew exactly what happened. He'd hated to think that this exposure violated her further and he hated to think that their partnership was over arbitrarily, because no psych evaluation on earth would convince their CO to let them be partners again, even if by some miracle they survived this.

So he'd just sat in his car, didn't even start the engine, and stared through the windshield. When he'd finally started driving, he'd driven and driven till the afternoon changed into dusk and then into evening. When Kathy called and he'd apologized, saying that he got caught at work again, he'd realized he wasn't going home tonight. Instead he'd driven to the one place on earth he wanted to be, the only place he had a chance of belonging in, the only place where there was a possibility of finding - and if he prayed hard enough, maybe even of giving - solace.

And now he fights within himself, hoping to God she will open the door, but relieved when she doesn't. He doesn't know what awaits him in there. He doesn't know if he'd ever walk out of that apartment the same man he'd walk in. He does know that he's not the same man he was 30 hours ago.

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The coffee mug wrapped in her hands has lost its warmth as she sits on the kitchen stool in the dimly lit apartment. The meeting with Huang had sent her spiraling, because she learned that her colleagues knew the _exact _details of what happened, and because Huang made her mouth things that she'd never admitted before, not even to herself. Her eyes are staring at some distant point. _How do I continue from here? _Her palms sweat to the thought.

So many things gnaw at her. Like the fact that they will make her and Elliot go through psych evaluations. And the fact that even if they wanted to, she and Elliot wouldn't be _allowed_ to be partners again. Not that she deludes herself that they could. And there's the fact that it'd take one archive clerk with a big mouth to have everyone in the precinct know what happened, and she knows the good souls there, those that already think that she and Elliot have been sleeping together for years and wouldn't understand that this was not the same. But the thought that gnaws at her the most is that she won't be able to face Elliot, not now, maybe not ever.

The protective shield that she is always able, with effort, to pull around herself is completely ground down now. That shield is what helps her cope with the everyday proximity to him, with the split-seconds when Elliot's mere presence next to her feels like home, when her heart suddenly widens, right before her mind regains control and contracts it back again and enables her to retreat into the realm of friendship and partnership. How will she be able to face him now that he's inked on every nerve in her body? How will she be able to face him when this has happened in the most twisted way possible? It feels as if the most important people in her life are all blighted because of her – her mother, her brother, Calvin, and now Elliot.

And what torments her the most is the fear that Elliot's choice to spare her from Starkey will cost him so much that he'd never forgive her.

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She doesn't hear the first knock. The second one startles her. She looks around, not quite sure if that was the door or her imagination.

She sets her mug down, and she doesn't have to look through the peep hole to know that it's him. And despite everything, that damn split-second of 'home', of heart and gut wrenching hope, flashes through her. She closes her eyes for a moment before opening the door.

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The door opens and she stands in front of him. His heart is a nuclear meltdown when her eyes meet his. They're deep dark caverns he's lost in.

They just stare at each other for a long moment. "Can I come in?" he finally asks.

She shifts to let him in and his chest brushes against her as he walks in. The brief touch runs warm shivers through them both.

She closes the door behind them and turns to face him. He knows he has to say something but he didn't plan out what he was going to say to her, all his efforts were focused on actually getting here. He wants to tell her that he's sorry, that he has failed, that it's all his fault because he should have had her back, but nothing comes from his lips. He opens his mouth once or twice, but his voice refuses to utter the words, and she just stands there as their eyes search for and evade each other.

"I saw Huang today," he starts and falters. "He told me about the other camera," he finally manages to say something that resembles what he came here for.

Olivia casts her eyes down to the floor.

"Liv, I..," He draws a deep breath, "I'm so sorry," he sighs and he hopes that she can grasp that he's sorry about what happened to her, and about the role he had to play in it, and about what it has done to her, what it has done to _them_.

He needs her to look at him so he can read it in her eyes, but even when she raises her eyes, she evades his gaze. She's quiet too, and he can see that she's fighting to push back the tears. He wants to reach out his hand and touch her shoulder, to let her know that he's with her, that he's here, but he doesn't dare making any physical contact with her.

She finally looks at him and breaks the silence. "It doesn't matter. They would've found out anyway."

"It's not just that," he hesitates. "It's…everything," he says and he doesn't add what 'everything' means because he doesn't know where to start.

"El…," she starts and falters, "I don't think I can do this right now." Her eyes are veiled with tears and he can't see that she wishes she could talk to him about this, that she wishes she could reach out and touch his arm, but she feels so small, questioning herself, what right she has. His sacrifice and care are unbearable to her right now. She needs to retreat, to let her mind take over her heart, but he's too close, and then again too distant, and everything is so raw.

"Liv," he pleads, "I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking…," he can't seem to finish the sentence. "Please talk to me," he finally adds.

"I don't know how to fix this, Elliot," she says, sounding tired and her voice sears through him.

"You don't have to fix anything," he says and his voice is a rasp. Her eyes still evade him. "Liv," he calls out quietly, hoping she will look at him, hoping that although they're still at the door, that she won't kick him out at any moment. "I don't know what to think. I…I worry about you, and…," he finally says, although he still can't catch her gaze and still can't seem to finish his sentences because it's all a whirlwind in his head.

"I'll be fine," she says almost immediately, probably without even noticing that he hasn't really said much.

He doesn't buy it.

"Fine?" he almost wants to laugh. "You've been through hell," he says in a low voice and the part he's played in that hell hovers above them.

"So have you," she quietly replies, but she doesn't look at him and he needs her to, because her words alone can't absolve him of the crushing weight of guilt and pain.

And as if she reads his mind, she looks at him for a moment and then looks away again. He follows her gaze and his heart constricts when he realizes that she's looking at the door.

He can feel that she wants him to leave, that she wants to be left alone, but he can't. He can't leave her like this. Not when pain is like a dark aura around her. He can't leave her, period. He just can't. "I can't go home," he half whispers, and he immediately realizes that it's the wrong thing to say, but it has slipped out of his mouth, because it's true. So true. "I didn't tell her anything," he starts explaining, realizing what she must be thinking, but it's too late and he can practically see her soul crumbling in her eyes. The tears she's held back start rolling down her cheeks because he's failed again.

She's at arm's-length and again he wants to reach out his hand and touch her, wipe the tears from her face, hold her. "Liv," he starts once more because he wants to explain, but she interjects.

"I'm sorry, Elliot," her voice breaks. "I'm _so_ sorry," she repeats in a voice thick with tears. _Go home, try to sort this out. I hope to God she forgives you. I hope to God you can hide it from her, _she thinks_. _She can't imagine her life without him. He is home to her in so many ways. Losing him will leave her all alone in the world, all over again. But somewhere deep inside her she's always known that one day, in one way or another, she would lose him. And this is it, this is her losing him, but she could take it if she only knew that the life he's built isn't ruined because of her, because of what he went through because of her.

He feels helpless, because his instinct is to wrap his arms around her and pull her into him, but he reminds himself for the millionth time this evening that he shouldn't dare to touch her, not even lightly. "You have _nothing_ to be sorry about," he says and he watches as her posture changes, as her body stiffens and her hands wipe off the tears from her cheeks, then she looks at him rigidly. He wants to have the time to tell her more, to explain, to beg, to regret, to make sure she will really be ok, but he can tell his time has run out.

"I'm sorry, I can't…" her voice is not as steady as her posture. "Please, Elliot…,"she bites her bottom lip for a second before she moves a few steps closer to the door and stops there, with her back to him. This is her losing him, and maybe it's better to do it in one swift pull, rather than let it cut through them like a dull blade.

She's silent then for a moment and he wants to shake her, still wants to hold her as well. He doesn't budge. He can't. "No. Don't evade this." _Don't evade me._ His tone is soft although his voice drops a decibel, and maybe he has the courage to insist because she stands with her back to him. "You don't have to fix anything. _You_ didn't do anything wrong." _Blame me, because I blame myself_, he would say if he could, but the words refuse to drop out of his mouth when Olivia turns to face him.

She allows a bitter smile to die on her lips before she turns to face him. She knows him well enough to guess the things he _doesn't_ say. He doesn't blame her, _yet_. He blames himself and it's another sacrifice she can't handle. It's either screaming it all out or making him go. "I need time, El. I'll be fine," she finally says, and she wants to add that she also needs to know if he's ok, if he'll be fine, but she can't even bring herself to ask him that, because unlike him, she doesn't have the courage to hear the answer.

Her voice is raspy and pleading, her eyes are directed at his and he can see the dark shadows in them. She's lying. She's sending him off with a half-baked lie, like she always has. He's frozen, but he grits his teeth because he can't expect more than that, she's given him what he said he came here for, and he knows her well enough to know that she won't back down now. She wants him out. Out of her apartment, probably out of her life too, because what happened in the basement changed everything they were to each other without establishing a solid substitute for them to be, except for victims of the same infliction.

So he nods his head, pressing his lips together, before he walks over to the door. She opens it for him and he stops to stand next to her for a moment. He looks into her eyes and they're still a dark pool for him to drown in, and he refuses to grasp how they can be so distant after being so close, how they can be severed after being linked to each other in so many ways.

"Liv, if you…"

"I know," she cuts in, but her voice is softened by the tears that threaten her again.

The door closes behind him, and nothing of what he's hoped to find in her apartment materialized – he didn't belong with her, he didn't find solace there, and least of all – he couldn't give _her_ any solace. But it's still the only place on earth he wants to be. And that may be right and it may be wrong, but right and wrong became irrelevant thirty hours ago.

_**TBC**_


End file.
